Title: The Resurrectionist
Author: Samuel Warren
* A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook *
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Language: English
Date first posted: November 2006
Date most recently updated: November 2006
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The Resurrectionist

by

Samuel Warren

My gentle reader—start not at learning that I have been, in my
time, a resurrectionist! Let not this appalling word, this humiliating
confession, conjure up in your fancy a throng of vampire-like images and
associatiors, or earn your "Physician's" dismissal from your hearts and
hearths. It is your own groundless fears, my fair trembler!—your
own superstitious prejudices—that have driven me, and will drive
many others of my brethern, to such dreadful doings as those hereafter
detailed. Come, come—let us have one word of reason between us on
the abstract question—and then for my tale. You expect us to cure
you of disease, and yet deny us the only means of learning how! You
would have us bring you the ore of skill and experience, yet forbid us
to break the soil or sink a shaft! Is this fair, fair reader? Is this
reasonable?

What I am now going to describe was my first and last exploit in the
way of body-stealing. It was a grotesque if not a ludicrous scene, and
occurred during the period of my "walking the hospitals," as it is
called, which occupied the two seasons immediately after my leaving
Cambridge. A young and rather interesting female was admitted a patient
at the hospital I attended; her case baffled all our skill, and her
symptoms even defied diagnosis. Now, it seemed an enlargement of the
heart—now, an ossification—then this, that, and the other;
and at last it was plain we knew nothing at all about the
matter—no, not even whether her disorder was organic or
functional, primary or symptomatic—or whether it was really the
heart that was at fault. She received no benefit at all under the
fluctuating schemes of treatment we pursued, and at length fell into
dying circumstances. As soon as her friends were apprised of her
situation, and had an inkling of our intention to open the body, they
insisted on removing her immediately from the hospital, that she might
"die at home."

In vain did Sir —— and his dressers expostulate vehemently
with them, and represent, in exaggerated terms, the imminent peril
attending such a step. Her two brothers avowed their apprehension of our
designs, and were inflexible in exercising their right of removing their
sister. I used all my rhetoric on the occasion, but in vain; and at last
said to the young men, "Well, if you are afraid only of our dissecting
her, we can get hold of her, if we are so disposed, as easily if she die
with you as with us."

"Well—we'll troy that, measter," replied the elder, while his
Herculean fist oscillated somewhat significantly before my eyes. The
poor girl was removed accordingly to her father's house, which was at a
certain village about five miles from London, and survived her arrival
scarcely ten minutes! We soon contrived to receive intelligence of the
event; and as I and Sir ——'s two dressers had taken great
interest in the case throughout, and felt intense curiosity about the
real nature of the disease, we met together and entered into a solemn
compact, that, come what might, we would have her body out of the
ground. A trusty spy informed us of the time and exact place of the
girl's burial; and on expressing to Sir —— our determination
about the matter, he patted me on the back, saying, "Ah, my fine fellow
if you have spirit
enough—dangerous," etc., etc.

Was it not skilfully said? The baronet further told us, he felt
himself so curious about the matter that if fifty pounds would be of use
to us in furthering our purpose, they were at our service. It needed not
this, nor a glance at the éclat with which the successful issue
of the affair would be attended among our fellow-students, to spur our
resolves.

The notable scheme was finally adjusted at my rooms in the Borough.
M—— and E——, Sir ——'s dressers, and
myself, with an experienced "grab"—that is to say, a
professional resurrectionist—were to set off from the Borough
about nine o'clock the next evening—which would be the third day
after the burial—in a glass coach provided with all "appliances
and means to boot." During the day, however, our friend the grab
suffered so severely from an overnight's excess as to disappoint us of
his invaluable assistance. This unexpected contretempts nearly put an
end to our project; for the few other grabs we knew were absent on
professional tours! Luckily, however, I bethought me of a poor Irish
porter—a sort of "ne'er-do-weel" hanger-on at the hospital
—whom I had several times hired to go on errands. This man I sent
for to my room, and, in the presence of my two coadjutors, persuaded,
threatened, and bothered into acquiescence, promising him half-a-guinea
for his evening's work—and as much whisky as he could drink
prudently. As Mr. Tip—that was the name he went by—had some
personal acquaintance with the sick grab, he succeeded in borrowing his
chief tools; with which, in a sack large enough to contain our expected
prize, he repaired to my rooms about nine o'clock, while the coach was
standing at the door. Our Jehu had received a quiet douceur in addition
to the hire of himself and coach.

As soon as we had exhibited sundry doses of Irish cordial to our
friend Tip—under the effects of which he became quite "bouncible,"
and ranted about the feat he was to take a prominent part in—and
equipped ourselves in our worst clothes, and white top-coats, we entered
the vehicle—four in number—and drove off. The weather had
been exceedingly capricious all the evening —moonlight, rain,
thunder, and lightning, fitfully alternating. The only thing we were
anxious about was the darkness, to shield us from all possible
observation. I must own that, in analysing the feelings that prompted me
to undertake and go through with this affair, the mere love of adventure
operated quite as powerfully as the wish to benefit the cause of
anatomical science. A midnight expedition to the tombs!—It took
our fancy amazingly; and then Sir ——'s cunning hint about
the "danger"—and our "spirit!"

The garrulous Tip supplied us with amusement all the way
down—rattle, rattle, rattle, incessantly; but as soon as we had
arrived at that part of the road where we were to stop, and caught sight
of —— church, with its hoary steeple—glistening in the
fading moonlight, as though it were standing sentinel over the graves
around it, one or which we were going so rudely to violate—Tip's
spirits began to falter a little. He said little—and that at
intervals.

To be very candid with the reader, none of us felt over-much at our
ease. Our expedition began to wear a somewhat hare-brained aspect, and
to be environed with formidable contingencies which we had not taken
sufficiently into our calculations. What, for instance, if the two stout
fellows, the brothers, should be out watching their sister's grave? They
were not likely to stand on much ceremony with us. And then the manual
difficulties! E—— was the only one of us that had ever
assisted at the exhumation of a body—and the rest of us were
likely to prove but bungling workmen. However, we had gone too far to
think of retreating. We none of us spoke our suspicions, but the
silence that reigned within the coach was tolerably significant. In
contemplation, however, of some such contingency we had put a bottle of
brandy in the coach pocket; and before we drew up, had all four of us
drunk pretty deeply of it. At length the coach turned down a by-lane to
the left, which led directly to the churchyard wall; and after moving a
few steps down it, in order to shelter our vehicle from the observation
of highway passengers, the coach stopped, and the driver opened the
door.

"Come, Tip," said I, "out with you."

"Get out, did you say, sir? To be sure I will—Och! to be sure I
will." But there was small show of alacrity in his movements as he
descended the steps; for while I was speaking I was interrupted by the
solemn clangour of the church clock announcing the hour of midnight. The
sounds seemed to warn us against what we were going to do.

"'Tis a cowld night, yer honours," said Tip, in an under-tone, as we
successively alighted, and stood together, looking up and down the dark
lane, to see if anything was stirring but ourselves. "'Tis a cowld night
—and—and—and—" he stammered.

"Why, you cowardly old scoundrel," grumbled M——, "are you
frightened already? What's the matter, eh? Hoist up the bag on your
shoulders directly, and lead the way down the lane."

"Och, but yer honours—och! by the mother that bore me, but 'tis
a murtherous cruel thing, I'm thinking, to wake the poor cratur from her
last sleep."

He said this so querulously, that I began to entertain serious
apprehensions, after all, of his defection; so I insisted on his taking
a little more brandy, by way of bringing him up to a par. It was of no
use, however. His reluctance increased every moment—and it even
dispirited us. I verily believe the turning of a straw would have
decided us all on jumping into the coach again, and returning home
without accomplishing our errand. Too many of the students, however,
were apprised of our expedition, for us to think of terminating it so
ridiculously. As it were by mutual consent, we stood and paused a few
moments, about half-way down the lane. M—— whistled with
infinite spirit and distinctness; E—— remarked to me that he
always "thought a churchyard at midnight was the gloomiest object
imaginable;" and I talked about business—"soon be
over"—"shallow grave," etc., etc.

"Confound it—what if those two brothers of hers should be there?" said M—— abruptly, making a
dead stop, and folding his arms on his breast.

"Powerful fellows, both of them!" muttered E——. We
resumed our march—when Tip, our advanced guard—a title he
earned by anticipating our steps about three inches—suddenly stood
still, let down the bag from his shoulders, elevated both hands in a
listening attitude, and exclaimed, "Whisht!—whisht! By my soul,
what was that?"

We all paused in silence, looking palely at one another—but
could hear nothing except the drowsy flutter of a bat wheeling away from
us a little overhead.

"Fait—an' wasn't it somebody spaking on the far side o' the
hedge I heard?" whispered Tip.

"Pooh—stuff, you idiot!" I exclaimed, losing my temper. "Come,
M—— and E——, it's high time we had done with all
this cowardly nonsense; and if we mean really to do anything, we must
make haste. 'Tis past twelve—day breaks about four—and it is
coming on wet, you see." Several large drops of rain, pattering heavily
among the leaves and branches, corroborated my words, by announcing a
coming shower, and the air was sultry enough to warrant the expectation
of a thunder-storm. We therefore buttoned up our greatcoats to the chin,
and hurried on to the churchyard wall, which ran across the bottom of
the lane. This wall we had to climb over to get into the churchyard, and
it was not a very high one.

Here Tip annoyed us again. I told him to lay down his bag, mount the
wall, and look over into the yard, to see whether all was clear before
us; and, as far as the light would enable him, to look about for a
new-made grave. Very reluctantly he complied, and contrived to scramble
to the top of the wall. He had hardly time, however, to peer over into
the churchyard, when a fluttering streak of lightning flashed over us,
followed, in a second or two, by a loud burst of thunder. Tip fell in an
instant to the ground, like a cockchafer shaken from an elm-tree, and
lay crossing himself and muttering paternosters. We could scarcely help
laughing at the manner in which he tumbled down, simultaneously with the
flash of lightning. "Now, look ye, gintlemen," said he, still squatting
on the ground, "do you mane to give the poor cratur Christian burial,
when ye've done wid her? An' will you put her back again as ye found
her? 'Case, if you won't, blood an' oons—"

"Hark ye now, Tip," said I sternly, taking out one of a brace of
empty pistols I had put into my greatcoat pocket, and presenting it to
his head, "we have hired you on this business, for the want of a better,
you wretched fellow! and if you give us any more of your nonsense, by
—— I'll send a bullet through your brain! Do you hear me,
Tip?"

"Och, aisy, aisy wid ye! I don't murther me! Bad luck to me that I
ever cam wid ye! Och, and if ivver I live to die, won't I see and bury
my ould body out o' the rache of all the docthers in the world? if I
don't, divel burn me!" We all laughed aloud at Tip's truly Hibernian
expostulation.

"Come, sir, mount! over with you!" said we, helping to push him
upwards. "Now, drop this bag on the other side," we continued, giving
him the sack that contained our implements. We all three of us then
followed, and alighted safely in the churchyard. It poured with rain;
and, to enhance the dreariness and horrors of the time and place,
flashes of lightning followed in quick succession, shedding a transient
awful glare over the scene, revealing the white tombstones, the
ivy-grown venerable church, and our own figures, a shivering group, come
on an unhallowed errand! I perfectly well recollect the lively feelings
of apprehension—"the compunctious visitings of
remorse"—which the circumstances called forth in my own breast,
and which, I had no doubt, were shared by my companions.

As no time, however, was to be lost, I left the group, for an
instant, under the wall to search out the grave. The accurate
instructions I had received enabled me to pitch on the spot with little
difficulty; and I returned to my companions, who immediately followed me
to the scene of operations. We had no umbrellas, and our greatcoats were
saturated with wet; but the brandy we had recently taken did us good
service, by exhilarating our spirits and especially those of Tip. He
untied the sack in a twinkling, and shook out the hoes and spades, etc.;
and taking one of the latter himself, he commenced digging with such
energy that we had hardly prepared ourselves for work before he had
cleared away nearly the whole of the mound. The rain soon abated, and
the lightning ceased for a considerable interval, though thunder was
heard occasionally grumbling sullenly in the distance, as if expressing
anger at our unholy doings—at least I felt it so. The pitchy
darkness continued, so that we could scarcely see one another's figures.
We worked on in silence, as fast as our spades could be got into the
ground; taking it in turns, two by two, as the grave would not admit of
more. On—on—on we worked till we had hollowed out about
three feet of earth. Tip then hastily joined together a long iron screw
or borer, which he thrust into the ground, for the purpose of
ascertaining the depth at which the coffin yet lay from us.

To our vexation, we found a distance of three feet remained to be got
through.

"Sure, and by the soul of St. Patrick, but we'll not be done by the
morning" said Tip, as he threw down the instrument and resumed his
spade.

We were all discouraged. Oh, how earnestly I wished myself at home,
in my snug little bed in the Borough! How I cursed the Quixotism that
had led me into such an undertaking! I had no time, however, for
reflection, as it was my turn to relieve one of the diggers; so into the
grave I jumped, and worked away as lustily as before. While I was thus
engaged, a sudden noise, close to our ears, so startled me, that I
protest I thought I should have dropped down dead in the grave I was
robbing.

I and my fellow-digger let fall our spades, and all four stood still
for a second or two in an ecstasy of fearful apprehension. We could not
see more than a few inches around us, but heard the grass trodden by
approaching feet! They proved to be those of an ass, that was turned at
night into the churchyard, and had gone on eating his way towards us;
and, while we were standing in mute expectation of what was to come
next, opened on us with an astounding hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw! Even
after we had discovered the ludicrous nature of the interruption, we
were too agitated to laugh. The brute was actually close upon us, and
had given tongue from under poor Tip's elbow, having approached him
from behind as he stood leaning on his spade. Tip started suddenly
backward against the animal's head, and fell down.

Away sprang the jackass, as much confounded as Tip, kicking and
scampering like a mad creature among the tombstones, and hee-hawing
incessantly, as if a hundred devils had got into it for the purpose of
discomfiting us. I felt so much fury and fear lest the noise should lead
to our discovery I could have killed the brute if it had been within my
reach, while Tip stammered, in an affrightened whisper—"Och, the
baste! Och, the baste! The big black divel of a baste! The murtherous,
thundering——" and a great many epithets of the same sort. We
gradually recovered from the agitation which this provoking interruption
had occasioned; and Tip, under the promise of two bottles of whisky as
soon as we arrived safe at home with our prize, renewed his exertions,
and dug with such energy that we soon cleared away the remainder of the
superincumbent earth, and stood upon the bare lid of the coffin. The
grapplers, with ropes attached to them, were then fixed in the sides and
extremities, and we were in the act of raising the coffin, when the
sound of a human voice, accompanied with footsteps, fell on our startled
ears. We heard both distinctly, and crouched down close over the brink
of the grave, awaiting in breathless suspense a corroboration of our
fears. After a pause of two or three minutes, however, finding that the
sounds were not renewed, we began to breathe more freely, persuaded that
our ears must have deceived us.

Once more we resumed our work, succeeded in hoisting up the
coffin—not without a slip, however, which nearly precipitated it
down again to the bottom, with all four of us upon it—and
depositing it on the graveside. Before proceeding to use our screws or
wrenches, we once more looked and listened, and listened and looked; but
neither seeing nor hearing anything we set to work, prized off the lid
in a twinkling, and a transient glimpse of moonlight disclosed to us the
shrouded inmate—all white and damp. I removed the face-cloth, and
unpinned the cap, while M—— loosed the sleeves from the
wrists. Thus were we engaged, when E——, who had hold of the
feet, ready to lift them out, suddenly let them go—gasped, "Oh, my
God there they are!" and placed his hand on my arm. He shook like an
aspen leaf. I looked towards the quarter whither his eyes were directed,
and, sure enough, saw the figure of a man—if not two—moving
stealthily towards us. "Well, we're discovered, that's clear," I
whispered as calmly as I could.

"We shall be murdered!" groaned E——.

"Lend me one of the pistols you have with you," said M——
resolutely; "by ——, I'll have a shot for my life,
however!"

As for poor Tip, who had heard every syllable of this startling
colloquy, and himself seen the approaching figures, he looked at me in
silence, the image of black horror! I could have laughed even then, to
see his staring black eyes—his little cocked ruby-tinted
nose—his chattering teeth.

"Hush—hush!" said I, cocking my pistol, while M——
did the same; for none but myself knew that they were unloaded. To add
to our consternation, the malignant moon withdrew the small scantling of
light she had been doling out to us, and sank beneath a vast cloud,
"black as Erebus," but not before we had caught a glimpse of two more
figures moving towards us in an opposite direction. "Surrounded!" two of
us muttered in the same breath. We all rose to our feet, and stood
together, not knowing what to do—unable in the darkness to see one
another distinctly. Presently we heard a voice say, in a subdued tone,
"Where are they? Where? Sure I saw them! Oh, there they are.
Halloa—halloa!"

That was enough—the signal of our flight. Without an instant's
pause, or uttering another syllable, off we sprung, like small-shot from
a gun's mouth, all of us in different directions, we knew not whither. I
heard the report of a gun—mercy on me! and pelted away, scarcely
knowing what I was about, dodging among the graves—now coming
full—butt against a plaguy tombstone, then tumbling on the
slippery grass—while some one followed close at my heels, panting
and puffing, but whether friend or foe I knew not.

At length I stumbled against a large tombstone; and, finding it open
at the two ends, crept under it, resolved there to abide the issue. At
the moment of my ensconcing myself the sound of the person's footsteps
who had followed me suddenly ceased. I heard a splashing sound, then a
kicking and scrambling, a faint stifled cry of "Ugh—oh, ugh" and
all was still. Doubtless it must be one of my companions, who had been
wounded. What could I do, however? I did not know in what direction he
lay—the night was pitch-dark—and if I crept from my
hiding-place, for all I knew, I might be shot myself. I shall never
forget that hour—no, never! There was I, squatting like a toad on
the wet grass and weeds, not daring to do more than breathe! Here was a
predicament! I could not conjecture how the affair would terminate.

Was I to lie where I was till daylight, that then I might step into
the arms of my captors? What was become of my companions? While turning
these thoughts in my mind, and wondering that all was so quiet, my ear
caught the sound of the splashing of water, apparently at but a yard or
two's distance, mingled with the sounds of a half-smothered human
voice—"Ugh! ugh! Och, murther! murther! murther!"—another
splash—"and isn't it dead, and drowned, and kilt I
am——"

Whew! Tip in trouble, thought I, not daring to speak. Yes—it
was poor Tip, I afterwards found—who had followed at my heels,
scampering after me as fast as fright could drive him, till his career
was unexpectedly ended by his tumbling—souse—head over
heels, into a newly-opened grave in his path, with more than a foot of
water in it. There the poor fellow remained, after recovering from the
first shock of his fall, not daring to utter a word for some time, lest
he should be discovered—straddling over the water with his toes
and elbows stuck into the loose soil on each side, to support him. This
was his interesting position, as he subsequendy informed me, at the time
of uttering the sounds which first attracted my attention. Though not
aware of his situation at the time, I was almost choked with laughter as
he went on with his soliloquy, somewhat in this strain:

"Och, Tip, ye ould divel! Don't it sarve ye right, ye fool? Ye
villainous ould coffin-robber! Won't ye burn for this here-after, ye
sinner? Ulaloo! When ye are dead yourself, may ye be trated like that
poor cratur—and yourself alive to see it! Och, hubbaboo! hubbaboo!
Isn't it sure that I'll be drowned, an' then it's kilt I'll be!" A loud
splash, and a pause for a few moments, as if he were readjusting his
footing—"Och! an' I'm catching my dith of cowld! Fait, an' it's a
divel a drop o' the two bottles o' whisky I'll ever see—Och, och,
och!"—another splash—"och, an' isn't this uncomfortable!
Murther and oons!—if ever I come out of this—sha'n't I be
dead before I do?"

"Tip—Tip—Tip!" I whispered in a low tone. There was a
dead silence. "Tip, Tip, where are you? What's the matter, eh?" No
answer; but he muttered in a low tone to himself—"Where am I?
by my soul! Isn't it dead, and kilt, and drowned, and murthered I am
—that's all!"

In an instant there was a sound of jumping and splashing, as if
surprise had made him slip from his standing again, and he called out,
"Whoo! whoo! an' is't you, sweet Mr. ——! What is the matter
wid ye? Are ye kilt? Where are they all? Have they taken ye away, every
mother's son of you?" he asked eagerly, in a breath.

"Why, what are you doing, Tip? Where are you?"

"Fait, an' it's being washed I am, in the feet, and in the queerest
tub your honour ever saw!" A noise of scuffling not many yards off,
silenced us both in an instant.

Presently I distinguished the voice of E——, calling out,
"Help, M——!" (My name.) "Where are you?" The noise
increased, and seemed nearer than before. I crept from my lurking place,
and aided at Tip's resurrection, when both of us hurried towards the
spot whence the sound came. By the faint moonlight I could just see the
outlines of two figures violently struggling and grappling together.
Before I could come up to them both fell down, locked in each other's
arms, rolling over each other, grasping one another's collars, gasping
and panting as if in mortal struggle. The moon suddenly emerged, and who
do you think, reader, was E——'s antagonist? Why, the person
whose appearance had so discomfited and affrighted us all—our coachman.

That worthy individual, alarmed at our protracted stay, had, contrary
to our injunctions, left his coach to come and search after us. He it
was whom we had seen stealing towards us; his step—his voice had
alarmed us, for he could not see us distinctly enough to discover
whether we were his fare or not. He was on the point of whispering my
name, it seems when we must all have understood one another—when
lo! we all started off in the manner which has been described and he
himself, not knowing that he was the reason of it, had taken to his
heels, and fled for his life! He supposed we had fallen into a sort of
ambuscade. He happened to hide himself behind the tombstone next but one
to that which sheltered E——. Finding all quiet, he and
E——, as if by mutual consent, were groping from their
hiding-places, when they unexpectedly fell foul of one
another—each too affrighted to speak—and hence the
scuffle.

After this satisfactory dénouement we all repaired to the
grave's mouth, and found the corpse and coffin precisely as we had left
them. We were not many moments in taking out the body, stripping it, and
thrusting it into the sack we had brought. We then tied the top of the
sack, carefully deposited the shroud, etc., in the coffin, re-screwed
down the lid—fearful, impious mockery!—and consigned it once
more to its resting-place, Tip scattering a handful of earth on the lid,
and exclaiming reverently—"An' may the Lord forgive us for what we
have done to ye!" The coachman and I then took the body between us to
the coach, leaving M——, and E——, and Tip to fill
up the grave.

Our troubles were not yet ended, however. Truly it seemed as though
Providence were throwing every obstacle in our way. Nothing went right.
On reaching the spot where we had left the coach, behold it lay several
yards farther in the lane, tilted into the ditch—for the horses,
being hungry, and left to themselves, in their anxiety to graze on the
verdant bank of the hedge, had contrived to overturn the vehicle in the
ditch—and one of the horses was kicking vigorously when we came
up—the whole body off the ground—and resting on that of his
companion. We had considerable difficulty in righting the coach, as the
horses were inclined to be obstreperous. We succeeded,
however—deposited our unholy spoil within, turned the horses'
heads towards the high road, and then, after enjoining Jehu to keep his
place on the box, I went to see how my companions were getting on. They
had nearly completed their task, and told me that "shovelling in was
surprisingly easier than shovelling out!"

We took great pains to leave everything as neat and as nearly
resembling what we found it as possible, in order that our visit might
not be suspected. We then carried away each our own tools, and hurried
as fast as possible to our coach, for the dim twilight had already
stolen a march upon us, devoutly thankful that, after so many
interruptions, we had succeeded in effecting our object.

It was broad daylight before we reached town, and a wretched coach
company we looked, all wearied and dirty—Tip especially, who
nevertheless snored in the corner as comfortably as if he had been warm
in his bed. I heartily resolved with him, on leaving the coach, that it
should be "the devil's own dear self only that should timpt me out again
body-snatching."